Nugget Of Truth Quotes

Sometimes humans hit on a moment of profundity more complete than their dim minds could comprehend, and they took that nugget of truth and dumped it in the refuse for the bards and the poets to find, and mangle into yodeling paeans of love.

He was the kind of young man whose handsome face has brought him plenty of success in the past and is now ever-ready for a new encounter, a fresh-experience, always eager to set off into the unknown territory of a little adventure, never taken by surprise because he has worked out everything in advance and is waiting to see what happens, a man who will never overlook any erotic opportunity, whose first glance probes every woman's sensuality, and explores it, without discriminating between his friend's wife and the parlour-maid who opens the door to him. Such men are described with a certain facile contempt as lady-killers, but the term has a nugget of truthful observation in it, for in fact all the passionate instincts of the chase are present in their ceaseless vigilance: the stalking of the prey, the excitement and mental cruelty of the kill. They are constantly on the alert, always ready and willing to follow the trail of an adventure to the very edge of the abyss. They are full of passion all the time, but it is the passion of a gambler rather than a lover, cold, calculating and dangerous. Some are so persistent that their whole lives, long after their youth is spent, are made an eternal adventure by this expectation. Each of their days is resolved into hundreds of small sensual experiences - a look exchanged in passing, a fleeting smile, knees brushing together as a couple sit opposite each other - and the year, in its own turn, dissolves into hundreds of such days in which sensuous experience is the constantly flowing, nourishing, inspiring source of life.

The best lies contain within them nuggets of truth, enough to give a listener pause.

I'm probably something like 95% chicken nugget

They are compulsive liars. A tactic they use is to add a nugget of truth to the lies so make them more believable.

I should never be able to fulfill what is,I understand, the first duty of a lecturer-to hand you after an hour's discourse a nugget of pure truth to wrap up between the pages of your notebooks and keep on the mantelpiece forever".

My father never told us how the stories worked. He didn't reveal the layers, the nuggets of information, the fragments of truth and fantasy. He didn't need to -- because, given the right conditions, the stories activated, sowing themselves.

In California there were nuggets the size of walnuts lying on the ground—or so it was said, and truth travels slowly when rumors have wings of gold.

If we can accept the fact that we create illness, it follows naturally that we can also create wellness. And therein lies a most empowering nugget of truth and healing.

It also occurred to him that Minds wrote voluminous biographies of each other in order to cover the odd potentially valuable or embarrassing nugget of truth under a mountain of bullshit.

At the heart of all truth lies a radiant cloud of unknowing, a glorious nugget of doubt, a shining core of impermanence.

Even the most fanciful story contains nuggets of truth. As readers, our job is to mine them.

They Lied" They lied, my friend. They injected their despair beneath your skin like a parasitic insect laying eggs in the body of another species. Nothing they said is true, everything about you is honorable. Every pore that opens and closes—a multitude along the expanse of your body, the follicles from which hair sprouts emerging again and again like spiders’ floss spun from a limitless source. You wait, huddled. Or carry yourself from place to place like a burden. As if you would stash yourself, if you could, in a bus station locker, or somewhere smaller. You don’t really hope, but you can’t give it up completely. Some stubborn nugget is lodged like a bullet in bone. Though each breath stings with the cold suck of it, you can know the truth. Every cell of your body vibrates with its own intelligence. Every atom is pure.

I used to believe, bless my naive little heart, that I had something to offer the robbed dead. Not revenge-there’s no revenge in the world that could return the tiniest fraction of what they’ve lost-and not justice, whatever that means, but the one thing left to give them: the truth. I was good at it. I had one, at least, of the things that make a great detective: the instinct for truth, the inner magnet whose pull tells you beyond any doubt what’s dross, what’s alloy, and what’s the pure, uncut metal. I dug out the nuggets without caring when they cut my fingers and brought them in my cupped hands to lay on graves, until I found out-Operation Vestal again-how slippery they were, how easily they crumbled, how deep they sliced and, in the end, how very little they were worth.

The world of conspiracy theories is one where stupid people dismiss the expertise of highly qualified people, and attribute to these experts a wicked desire to lie to and gull the masses. In other words, they portray experts as sinister enemies of the people. Conspiracy theories reflect the increasingly prevalent notion that the average, uneducated person is always right – can always see the real truth of a situation – while the educated experts are always wrong because they are deliberately lying to the people to further a conspiracy by the elite against the people. It is increasingly being perceived as a “sin”, a crime, to be smart, to be an expert. Average people do not like smart people, do not trust them, and are happy to regard them as nefarious conspirators. They are constructing a fantasy world where the idiot is always right and honest, and anyone who opposes the idiot always wrong and dishonest. A global Confederacy of Dunces is being established, whose cretinous values are transmitted by bizarre memes that crisscross the internet at a dizzying speed, and which are always accepted uncritically as the finest nuggets of truth. Woe betide anyone who challenges the Confederacy. They will be immediately trolled.

If you persist in continually chipping away at your bad theology, eventually the lies will crumble, and you will uncover nuggets of truth that will set you free.

And the best lies contain within them nuggets of truth, enough to give a listener pause.

Spiritual truth, like good nuggets of psychedelic music, was at the margins, hidden in used bookstores and record shops.

The psychology behind our accounting system is stupid. People are an expense and things are an investment, when in truth it’s the other way round.” - Stephen Covey

A fear-based faith distorts a lot of things, but what it distorts the most is the reflection we see in the mirror. Fear has a way of reflecting ugliness and distorted realities--lies with the appearance of truth--and gives us the false impression that fear tells the truth while concealing the reality that fear is a liar. It may be a good liar because it mixes fact with fiction, but it's a liar nonetheless. The reflections of fear must never be trusted, no matter how many nuggets of truth may be mixed in those ugly waters.

I used to believe, bless my naive little heart, that I had something to offer the robbed dead. Not revenge—there’s no revenge in the world that could return the tiniest fraction of what they’ve lost—and not justice, whatever that means, but the one thing left to give them: the truth. I was good at it. I had one, at least, of the things that make a great detective: the instinct for truth, the inner magnet whose pull tells you beyond any doubt what’s dross, what’s alloy and what’s the pure, uncut metal. I dug out the nuggets without caring when they cut my fingers and brought them in my cupped hands to lay on graves, until I found out—Operation Vestal again—how slippery they were, how easily they crumbled, how deep they sliced and, in the end, how very little they were worth. In Domestic Violence, if you can get one bruised girl to press charges or go to a shelter, then there’s at least one night when her boyfriend is not going to hit her. Safety is a small debased currency, copper-plated pennies to the gold I had been chasing in Murder, but what value it has it holds. I had learned, by that time, not to take that lightly. A few safe hours and a sheet of phone numbers to call: I had never been able to offer a single murder victim that much.

It’s like lifting—when you’re deep in a set, your arms are shaking and you’re a melting candle of pain that’s burned down to zero; you got nothing left to give. And in that darkest moment you cry out, ‘Lord, I can’t!’ and a voice comes out of the darkness and says, ‘But I can.’ That’s the still, small voice that comes in the night. That’s the sound of something bigger than yourself. That’s God talking. And he says, ‘You are not alone,’ and enfolds you in wings of the eagle, and he carries you up. But first you have to burn away everything that doesn’t matter. You have to burn away leg warmers and New Age crystals, and Madonna, and aerobics, and New Kids on the Block, and the boy you’re sweet on in school. You burn away your parents, and your friends, and everything you ever cared about, and you burn away personal safety, conventional morality. And when all that is gone, when everything is swept away in the fire and everything around you is ash, what you have left is just a tiny nugget, a little kernel of something that is good, and pure, and true. And you pick that pebble up, and you throw it at the fortress this demon has built in your friend’s soul, this leviathan of hatred and fear and oppression, and you throw this tiny pebble and it hits that wall and it goes ping . . . and nothing happens. That’s when you’ll have the hardest doubts you ever had in your life. But never doubt the truth. Never underestimate it. Because a second later, if you’ve been through the fire, you’ll hear the cracks start to spread, and all those mighty walls and iron gates will collapse like a house of cards because you have harrowed yourself until all that’s left is truth. That’s what that pebble is, Abby. It’s our core.

To continue the act of creation where God left off on the last day. To unlock the secret language of nature. I truly believe that every time I go deep enough to bring back a nugget of truth or beauty, God is making use of me.

Reading is a discontinuous and fragmentary operation. Or rather, the object of reading is punctiform and pulviscular material. In the spreading expanse of the writing, the reader’s attention isolates some minimal segments, juxtapositions of words, metaphors, syntactic nexuses, logical passages, lexical peculiarities that prove to possess an extremely concentrated density of meaning. They are like elemental particles making up the work’s nucleus, around which all the rest revolves or else like the void at the bottom of a vortex which sucks in and swallows currents. It is through these apertures that, in barely perceptible flashes, the truth the book may bear is revealed, its ultimate substance. Myth and mysteries consist of impalpable little granules like the pollen that sticks to a butterfly’s legs, only those who have realized this can expect revelations and illuminations. This is why my attention, in contrast to what you, sir, were saying, cannot be detached from the written lines even for an instant. I must not be distracted if I do not wish to miss some valuable clue. Every time I come upon one of these clumps of meaning I must go on digging around to see if the nugget extends into a vein. This is why my reading has no end. I read and reread, each time seeking the confirmation of a new discovery among the folds of the sentences.

We made it. As a group, my friends and I have endured parents who are abusive, absent, and drug-addicted. We’ve survived would-be rapists, devious cunts, homophobic assholes, jealous exes, dickheads, petty bitches, douche nuggets, and a disgusting pimp. We’ve braved being the scholarship kid, coming out, screwing up, and baring our truths. We’ve dealt with kidnappings, heinous trickery, a car accident, parents’ illnesses and death, assaults, and even murder. And we’re leaving this place stronger than ever, ready to take on the world outside of River Rock and Rosehaven Academy.

signs of deceptive behavior. With each admission, remember to avoid a deep dive into any one issue. Your best bet is to aim for little nuggets of information, so it doesn’t appear that you’re asking for a big data dump and an emotionally draining confession. Then, when you have all those nuggets and it’s time for your deep dive, don’t go back to the beginning—start with the most recent admission first. That’s likely the most serious matter, because it’s the one she tried hardest to conceal. Keep in mind as you’re collecting those nuggets how essential it is to remain engaged. As we pointed out in Chapter 6, engaging the person you’re interrogating is a vital element in coming across as sincere, which will in turn help you in your effort to persuade the person to share the information you’re seeking. But we should make it clear that it’s equally important to be engaged from the standpoint of ensuring that you don’t miss any of those nuggets that are coming at you.

Don’t rush your pace between questions. After the subject responds to a question, take a momentary pause that’s just south of awkward before you ask your next question. The brief silence gives you time to digest the response, and to determine what your next question should be. In addition, a guilty person may blurt out a nugget of information that you wouldn’t have gotten if you had rushed into your next question. •    Maintain a noncoercive, nonadversarial demeanor throughout the process. Always treat the subject with dignity, respect, and compassion. •    Make the person feel good about disclosing information by rewarding him with statements like, “Thanks for sharing that,” or “That’s helpful, thank you.” •    Always incorporate catch-all questions to uncover lies of omission or information that was overlooked: “What else can we talk about that will help us understand your situation?” “What haven’t I asked you today that you think I should know about?

Only love can dispel hate From Satsang with Giten on Buddha, November 12, 2015, in Stockholm Buddha says: SPEAK OR ACT WITH AN IMPURE MINDAND TROUBLE WILL FOLLOW YOUAS THE WHEEL FOLLOWS THE OX THAT DRIVES THE CART When Buddha uses the concept "impure mind", he means mind. Mind is impure, and no-mind is pure. SPEAK OR ACT WITH AN IMPURE MIND means to speak or act from the mind. AND TROUBLE WILL FOLLOW YOU means that misery and suffering is the result of the mind, because the mind means unawareness. Mind will bring trouble and suffering as certain AS THE WHEEL FOLLOWS THE OX THAT DRIVES THE CART. WE ARE WHAT WE THINK ALL THAT WE ARE ARISES WITH OUR THOUGHTS SPEAK OR ACT WITH A PURE MIND AND HAPPINESS WILL FOLLOW YOU AS YOUR SHADOW, UNSHAKABLE When Buddha says "pure mind", he means no-mind, awareness. Happiness will follow you if you have a pure mind or no-mind. Suffering is a result of mind, of unawareness, happiness is a result of no-mind, of awareness. Happiness cannot be searched for directly, happiness can only be found if you do not search it directly. On the contrary, you have to search for awareness. When awareness comes, happiness comes of its own accord. "LOOK HOW HE ABUSED ME AND BEAT ME, HOW HE THREW ME DOWN AND ROBBED ME" LIVE WITH SUCH THOUGHTS AND YOU LIVE IN HATE "LOOK HOW HE ABUSED ME AND BEAT ME HOW HE THREW ME DOWN AND ROBBED ME" ABANDON SUCH THOUGHTS AND LIVE IN LOVE Fear and hate exists in the past and the future, love exists in the moment, in the here and now. Love exists in the present moment. Fear and hate has a reference in the past. Somebody has abused you in the past, and you are carrying it like a wound. Fear and hate is a limitation. If you hate somebody, you also create a hate in the heart of that person towards you. The world lives in fear, hate, destructiveness and violence. Hate creates hell on earth, love creates a paradise on earth. True love comes from your inner being. It is spontaneously welling up of joy, which has nothing to do with the past or the future. True love is in the moment. IN THIS WORLDHATE NEVER YET DISPELLED HATE ONLY LOVE DISPELS HATE THIS IS THE LAW ANCIENT AND INEXHAUSTIBLE Hate never dispels hate, darkness cannot dispel darkness. Only love can dispel hate. The eternal law is that only love dispels hate, only light dispels darkness. Bring light into a room and the darkness disappears by itself. How can you bring light into your own being? Through becoming silent, aware, awake and conscious. That is how to bring the light in. The moment you are aware and awake, hate will not be found. It is not possible to hate somebody with awareness. You can only hate somebody in unawareness. When you are conscious, hate disappears, when you are not conscious, then hate is there. Love and hate, light and darkness, cannot exist together, because hate is the absence of love, darkness is the absence of light. YOU TOO SHALL PASS AWAY KNOWING THIS, HOW CAN YOU QUARREL We waste our life in quarreling, in conflict, when life is so short. Use your whole energy for awareness and meditation. Then you can become a light. Meditation will make you awake, because you will discover your inner being. Meditation brings an awakening. For the first time you will feel the truth of your own being.

We have our ways.” “Except you’re supporting the wrong side,” Kerry said. “Oh, that all depends on how you define ‘sides,’” Grace put in. “We’re on the side of love.” She drew out that last word, making it sound almost like a coo, with Fiona joining her, both of them adding an exaggerated batting of lashes, aimed first at Kerry, then at Cooper. Fiona added a little heart made by steepling her fingers together. Logan looked back over his shoulder. He was grinning now. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll head back to the airport right now,” he called to Cooper. Cooper lifted his hand in a wave. “No worries, mate.” He glanced at the group of openly speculating women, then at Kerry, who was shooting emerald green daggers his way, and thought ummm…“On second thought,” he shouted. “Hold on, I’ll join you!” He trotted after Logan, then turned so he was facing the women as he continued jogging backward. “Just getting the boat rental details, luv,” he called back to Kerry. “Back in a jiff.” He blew Kerry a kiss, then added a wink, chuckling when Fiona grabbed Kerry’s arm as she swung it upward in a gesture he seriously doubted was going to be a wave. He knew she was feeling shoved along a path she hadn’t yet decided she wanted to take and he might have been more concerned about her prickly attitude except for one thing. Sent her world spinning off its axis, had I? Well, all righty, then. As shaky starts went, he’d keep his focus on that little nugget of truth and build from there. Whistling a jaunty tune, he turned back and set off to catch up with Logan.

But there are times in the world where a stack of truth can be undone by one shining nugget of harder truth. I am not saying it makes sense to us outside those holding that nugget, only that when it's in your hand, you hold it and know it for what it is.

The Reception Hall," Roxy replied flatly, not even glancing back at me. "My king has an announcement to make to his subjects." "What's wrong with any of the halls and ballrooms down this end of the palace?" I muttered, mostly because I was feeling like I'd been sucker punched and I just wanted her to fucking talk to me. "Since my king took possession of the palace, some of the rooms and wings have locked themselves and as of yet he hasn't had the chance to figure out the spells that unlock them again," she replied without a single inflection in her voice. "Wait - are you telling me the palace has locked itself to him?" I asked, my mood lifting at the thought of that. "In part," she replied. "For now." A smirk lifted my lips at that little nugget of truth and I filed it away as I wondered whether there might be some way for us to make use of that against him. The palace had clearly been spelled to keep it protected from usurpers and as I was certain that Darcy hadn't had any issues like that while living here, I had to hope that there was something at work here specifically targeted against my father.

Nearly everyone appeared to take a side and seemed to listen only to find the nuggets that fit their desired spin.

Facts are only part of the truth. So much can be learned from books beyond what can be found in the words printed on the page ... It's a treasure hunt, an intricate dance through a paper maze, moving from one book to the next in search of nuggets of information, and what untold diversions might be discovered along the way. She's lost entire days in libraries, forgetting why she came in in the first place.

nodded. “Somewhere in each of these stories, there’s a nugget of truth, something that frightened humans and helped them deny we were real. The strongest distinguishing characteristic of humans is their power of denial.

A narcissist will spread lies about you to anyone that will listen. The more they tell their own victim story about "their abuse" at your hands, the more power and control they feel. They craft the lie tales mixing a nugget of half truths to make them more believable.

Part of awake-ness means being able to differentiate between what is really happening and what your mind is telling you about what is happening. In other words, we need to be able to recognize thoughts as thoughts, rather than magical nuggets of truth mysteriously granted to us by the universe at 2am, so that we can let go of ideas that lead to suffering.

In addition to increasing empathy, neurobiological research proves that reading fiction changes the biology of the brain, making it more receptive and connected. Reading novels also makes you more creative and open-minded, gives you psychological courage, and keeps your brain active and healthy. The therapeutic value of reading novels is so profound that it has birthed something called bibliotherapy, in which clients are matched with a literary fiction designed to address what is ailing them, from mild depression to a troubled intimate relationship to a desire to find a work/ family balance. Anyone who belongs to a book club has likely experienced a version of fiction's healing powers. The value of reading is even more significant if you're a writer. Imagine being a chef who eats only chicken nuggets, a carpenter who refuses to look at buildings, or an orchestra conductor who doesn't listen to anything but commercial jingles. Such is the problem for a writer who doesn't read regularly and widely.

the poor child there for hours (for he had the reptilian patience of an adult to whom time possesses no value except in proportion to what it might reveal, what meager nugget of truth it might suddenly cast up)

Selah Moments: those times we lean into God's presence, hear His voice, and willingly receive the golden nuggets of truth-revelation He gifts us with.

Holly was playing the concerned relative, the devoted sister, and if it was a ham performance Robin was experienced enough, now, to know that there were usually nuggets of truth to be sifted from even the most obvious dross.